Ray
by EnchantedPixie495
Summary: "Why are you trying to help me Harry? You never bothered before... Why now?" His green eyes softened. "Because I care." Song fic in response to Harmony and Co.'s Lyrical Llama Challenge.


**Written for the Harmony & Co.'s Lyric Llama Challenge! This fic was inspired by the lyrics from the song _Get Up _by _Shinedown._ I claim no ownership of the song; I only used it as inspiration.**

* * *

_Ain't nothing normal when it comes to you and me,_

_I'd rather twist myself in knots than watch you give up on your dreams._

* * *

Standing in front of Hermione's door, Harry recalls how they have reached this point.

It has been three years since the end of the war. It took time for the Wizarding community to swallow the bitter pain of grief and was even harder for them to bury their dead. The days blurred with each other back then, him listlessly going from funeral to funeral, guilt growing larger in his chest as another casket was placed within the ground. It was hard for many people, who had to bury family, friends, and children. No one was spared.

However, there came a point when the Wizarding community as a whole had to move on.

Some of Harry's classmates and friends had already decided to go back to Hogwarts and complete their education, in an effort to bring back some semblance of normalcy. Others have instead gone ahead and jumped straight to the Ministry of Magic to obtain jobs. Some might have gone for their own personal gains, but a good portion of those who went to get jobs did so in the effort to avoid going back to Hogwarts. The images that ran through his head, of blood on the walls, bodies thrown on the ground, and the screams and lights of curses being thrown about on unsuspecting victims, was hard to just forget so soon after the battle.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was made interim Minister of Magic immediately after the war, until such a time that the country is well enough to properly elect the next Minister. Once seated, one of the first orders that he did was for the capture of all the remaining Death Eaters who managed to escape the aftermath of the Battle. Harry, whose blood was still pumping even a month after the conclusion of the war, volunteered himself to help in the effort. Ron, who didn't know what else to do with his life, just shrugged and went along with Harry.

Hermione, on the other hand, was resolute in her decision to go back to Hogwarts to continue her education. It was hard, Harry mused. He was used to having both Hermione and Ron having his back whenever he turned. Was so used to turning his back to ask her a question, where she would explain in meticulous detail, or for having the calm comfort of her presence whenever things got rough. However, he had to accept that even though he was so used to having both of them with him the whole time, they are adults, and each one of them will need to forge their own path. He thought he was fortunate enough to continue to have Ron shadowing him in Auror training.

Hermione once graduated from Hogwarts completed her remaining N.E.W.T.s with the highest credentials in record time. Mere minutes after she had received her results, hordes of owls carrying letters came Hermione's way, containing offers and subtle incentives for her to consider a job in this-and-that company, or to join this-and-that department. It was surreal watching hundreds of owls bombing Hermione with job opportunities in almost every magical field there is.

By then, Harry and Ron were almost midway through the training regimen. He was fine with the amount of workload and practice he was doing. The physical practice was easy for him to do, what from the years from playing Quidditch. And the more theoretical part of the program? He was no slouch. Sure, he may have been lazy during his years in Hogwarts, but whenever he puts his mind to a specific task, he can complete it easily.

Ron on the other hand, although managed to pass the physical part of the program adequately, the more theoretical aspect stumped him. It might have been the more negative effect of Hermione's mother-hen attitude. He had got used to having Hermione bug him to complete his assignments and had plainly taken advantage of her unfortunate itch to correct almost all of Ron's half-hearted attempts in writing his essays.

This, Harry reflected, made Ron desperate for the needed help that he had got used to receiving. The moment Ron heard that Hermione had obtained her N.E.W.T. results; Ron all but whined and begged Hermione to join the Auror corps. He used almost every single tactic to make her join, even guilt-tripping her into it, and saying things like "Hermione, it will be just like the old times! You, me, and Harry…"It took time, but she eventually caved into Ron's pleas.

As Harry reminisces two years after the fact, standing in front of her closed bedroom door, he realizes now that that was the first sign that something was wrong.

Harry clenched his fist. Now is not the time to take a trip down memory lane. He needs to do something.

He banged on the door, "Oi, Hermione! I know you are in there. Can you open the door? I need to talk to you," Nothing can be heard from the other side of the door. "C'mon Hermione, I know you are in there! Don't make me open this. I don't want to be held accountable for anything that I may or may not see!"Harry bellowed. He knew she was on the other side of the door. He hadn't seen her leave the room for the past two days.

Harry narrowed his eyes. He tried opening the door again, but it seemed that it was locked from the inside. Releasing an exasperated sigh, he silently dispelled the charms on the door; pocketing his wand, he slowly opened it.

The first thing he noticed is that the room in itself was in disarray. Hermione's books, usually shelved neatly, are haphazardly thrown around the room, covering her dresser, the floor and even a small portion of her bed. The more he looked around, the more worried he became. Clothes sprawled on the floor, empty potion vials littering the dresser. The room was a mess.

It took a short while for him to find the object of his search, hidden under a plethora of blankets on her bed. Harry carefully strode inside the room, and his nose picked up on a sick smell the permeated the premise. He wrinkled his nose; he knew that Hermione hadn't been feeling well these days, but was appeased by her reassurances that she is fine. Obviously, that wasn't the case.

Shaking his head, Harry ruffled his messy hair and carefully headed towards the lump. Reaching over, he cautiously pried the covers off Hermione and peered onto her hollowed face. Her normally bushy hair falling listlessly down her face, dark circles framing her eyes and pale complexion were the first thing that popped in his eyes. She was obviously asleep.

He does not recall Hermione leaving her room in the past few days, and wonders when the last time she ate was. Peering down at her face, cataloging her pale complexion, Harry steels himself to the task ahead. This has been going on for too long, and it is frankly grating on his nerves. It is about time for Hermione to snap out of her funk before not only her health, but her mental and emotional state plummets past the point of no return.

Looking at her like this, Harry cannot help but smile ruefully. Shaking his head, he gently picked her up bridal style, and carefully tucked her head in the crook of his arm.

Feeling her soft breaths caressing his neck Harry blushed, the fine hairs on his neck stood up. Holding Hermione like this in his arms, he cannot help but notice how light she is. How small she is. It has been a while since he had been in such close contact with her.

With a small smile, Harry walked out of her room towards the living room. Gently tucking her on one of the fluffy couches and making sure she is still asleep, he went and quickly wrote a short letter to Shacklebolt, excusing Hermione for the rest of the week.

While watching the owl gliding away from the house to send the letter, it's grey plumage bright against the dark clouds outside, his ears picked up a soft groan coming from the living room. Harry quickly left the kitchen and went back in.

"Well Hermione, about time for you to wake up," Harry said, walking towards her.

"H-Harry?" Hermione coughed out. She tried speaking some more, but he shushed her while quickly summoning a cup of water.

"Here Hermione, drink this up and don't you dare try to speak one more word unless you have finished the whole thing. C'mon..."

Hermione immediately complied. She grabbed the cup of water and carefully tried to gulp the water down. Under Harry's careful eyes, she drank the whole cup. Once she was done, she put the empty glass away and looked up onto Harry.

He noted that and banished the cup. He went on ahead and summoned a Pepper-Up Potion from the medicine cabinet in Grimmauld Place. Handing the potion to Hermione, she scowled but drank the potion anyway.

A difference was noticeable seconds after she had drunk it. Her previously pale complexion colored and the slight tremors on her hands steadied.

Harry steeled himself. "Hermione, I guess it is now my duty to tell you that you have been excused from work for the rest of the week"

Hermione whipped her face upwards, eyes blazing "What! Harry, this is not the time for jokes. I really need to get to work, for it is soon going to be my turn to organize the paperwork. You know that no one is going to be filing those reports properly! I also need to do the weekly debrief with the Head, so really, I cannot just-"

"Yes, you can Hermione." Harry interrupted with a frown. "First of all, you should not have allowed others to dump their work on your shoulders; it is not right. You have been coming back from work more and more tired the longer you stay in the Ministry. You don't give yourself enough time to rest, and frankly, it is about time-"

"What?" Hermione screeched, sitting straighter on the seat eyes glowing. "About time for me to... what, take a break? Stop working? You have no right to tell me what to do or how I run my life! And sure, we may be working the same job anyway, but you don't see me trying to interfere with your work. So just don't get in my way! I am fine!"

"I am fine?" Harry laughed hollowly, the sudden sound startling Hermione.

"No, you are not." He said, a frown marring his face. "Have you looked in a mirror lately? You look the exact opposite of fine. I can see the circles under your eyes. I can tell you have been getting thinner.

And anyway, if you have really been taking care of yourself, when was the last time you did so? Hmm? When was the last time you went to the pub, Hermione? When was the last time you visited any of our friends? Heck, when was the last time you went to the library?"

Harry stood pacing across the living room "Too long I must say," he mirthlessly said. She lowered her head and avoided his eyes, "I went last week..." she mumbled.

Harry stopped and grimaced at her. "No Hermione, you didn't go last week. The last time that I can specifically recall you leaving for something other than work was two months ago."

"That is not-"

"That is not true?" Harry interrupted, striding towards Hermione, unintentionally intimidating her by his powerful aura. Standing in front of her, towering above her meek small frame, he can clearly see how venerable she is. He went and sat down in the seat he previously occupied, on the table directly in front of her.

"So? Can you please tell me when the last time you went out was?"Harry asked leaning forward, one eyebrow raised.

"T-the last time?" Hermione stuttered, furrowing her eyebrows. "I..." She trailed off, obviously trying to remember.

"You don't remember," Harry impassively said, blood boiling inside his veins. "That is why it is taking too long for you to answer my question. It has been too long."

"No, it has-"

"Yes, it has." Harry calmly said. "You have been distancing yourself from us" He scowled, knuckles turning white."Everyone knows this. There is no use denying it. You have been distancing yourself from our Professors, friends, and colleagues."

Harry frowned deeply, "You have been distancing yourself from me! Even though we live in the same house, under the same bloody roof, you always avoid me. You always sprout some type of excuse to go and hide in your room. In our house!"

"W-what..." Hermione squeaked, body hunching, a throw-pillow covering her front. "T-that... I-" She suddenly stopped talking, looking down and away from him, hands gripping the pillow tighter.

Harry closed his eyes, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He does not like seeing her looking so defeated, but he has to continue saying his piece. It would not do to just stop when he was finally getting somewhere. Harry continued, "And don't get me started on all the potions that you have been taking lately. These medications won't do much. Sure, it may make you feel better, but you are not doing so well. It just numbs everything that you have been feeling, and-"

His breath hitched, fists shaking. "And I cannot help but worry." Opening his eyes, he looked at Hermione.

Noticing Hermione's tense posture and her hands tightly holding the pillow as a life-line is heartbreaking. Her ironclad defenses which served her well over the years, just crumbled before his eyes the more he talked.

He never thought he would ever see Hermione that way as if a mere breeze can bring her down.

Harry thickly continued, "I want you to get better. I want you to be happy, truly happy. I know you are dissatisfied with the job you have. It is really obvious you cannot stand it, because it's not challenging enough.

And if that means I have to convince you to leave your job to do so, I will."

Slowly, Hermione looked up at him from behind her pillow, tears streaming down her face. "Leave my job? Do you know how hard it is going to be for me to go and find another one? I've been working there for two years now. How can I just up and leave?" she said thickly, eyes narrowing.

"How? Well... You can start by looking over all the letters that you got when your results came out."He smiled."I know you kept every single one of them, even when you were accepted to the program. Just look over them, find something that interests you, send a few owls and ask them if you can apply for a job or an apprenticeship."

Harry leaned back, posture relaxing. "You are the Greatest Witch of the Age Hermione. You don't really care about the titles that the Daily Prophets gave you, but this one is true. Anyone would love having you. All you need to do is send a letter and witches and wizards would trip over their feet to respond in any way to get into your good graces."He stated matter-of-factly.

"So even if I send something, they would just accept me because of who I am? Not because of how good I am?"She scoffed, eyes narrowed."How can I just accept that?"

"Because of whom you are? Are you listening to yourself? You rightfully earned that title. Everyone knows that. They do not give titles all willingly, as ridiculous as some of them may sound. They gave you that title because you earned it. You studied day and night, amassing as much knowledge as you can in a short amount of time. Don't patronize yourself."

Hermione tilted her head and peered at him, amber eyes clashing against green. For a short while, they stayed like this, not moving. Him still seated on the table across from her, looking down at her and her staring right back on the sofa.

She lightly blushed and looked down again "Why are you trying to help me, Harry? You never bothered before... Why now?"

His green eyes softened. "Because I care."

He tenderly tucked an errant curl behind her ear, and took his index finger underneath her face and gently lifted her chin up, urging Hermione to raise her head again. He peered down at her tear-filled face, green eyes connecting with ember.

Flashing a disarming smile, "Now," Harry continued, "I want you to lean on me. Allow me to support you. I won't let you fall, and even if you do..."Brushing the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs." I will be there to catch you."

"So trust me. Please believe in me, and when the time comes for you to tackle the dragon, I will be there with you."

* * *

Outside in the gloomy streets of London, dark grey clouds ever-presently overhead, a small ray of sunshine managed to break free from beneath the clouds. It may not have seemed like much, but it was enough. The sun had been hidden for quite some time, blocked by the oppressing clouds. But now, as the crack in the sky widened, with light bathing the streets, it is evident that it would not pass.


End file.
